


Charged

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 20:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10316765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Fíli’s found in the hot springs by both delegations.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for Little-red-83’s “Bard/Fili and some Thranduil/Fili” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/158362385615/any-newultra-rare-tolkien-or-trek-ships-i-should).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s good to be down in the hot springs after a long and trying day—the near boiling water is just what Fíli needs. He slips into the circular pool with an indolent sigh, and the almost opaque bubbles roll in to swallow him. This was one of the best places to find still intact in Erebor. Even after all their rebuilding, it’s still one of the best chambers. The space is vast, low-ceilinged but wide, and folding dividers have been erected between the different pools to give the users privacy. Fíli always goes to the same one—the one he and Kíli both lunged into on its first discovery. At the moment, Kíli isn’t at his side, but likely off checking out the Elven delegates staying within their halls.

It’s the Men that Fíli’s more interested in. Both leaders—King Thranduil and Bard of Dale—are exceedingly handsome, in Fíli’s personal and private opinion, even if one of them did lock him up in their dungeons. Thorin isn’t over it, but Fíli mostly is: they’re all free now, free of the dragon’s wrath, free of the war, and, most fortunately, free to look towards more pleasant things. As the hot water swirls along Fíli’s stomach, he conjures the image of the debate table again, where he and Kíli sat on either of Thorin’s sides, and Thranduil rode his ethereal beauty while Bard boasted humble charm. Tidied up and well-dressed but still full of stubble, Bard cleaned up quite well, and Fíli can vividly remember greeting him at the gate, wanting to run greedy hands back through his shaggy hair and lustrous beard—

Fíli’s thoughts are cut short by someone wandering around the nearest partition, and as Bard comes into focus, out of the building steam, he smiles.

At the very edge of Fíli’s pool, he asks, “Do you mind if I join you?”

He must’ve already hung most of his things in the changing rooms—now he only wears trousers and his boots. Torchlight off the nearest wall washes his broad chest yellow-orange, and Fíli has to force himself not to ogle it, but to keep on Bard’s face. If he were Nori or even Bofur, he’d probably look all he wants and tug Bard right in, but he has to play prince now, and he just lifts a hand out of the water to gesture forward and say, “Of course not, come on in.”

With a little nod, Bard bends down to unlace his shoes, and it gives Fíli a moment to quickly take him in unwatched. It’s not a smart idea, but it’s too tempting not to, and at least it’s just a Man, not an _elf_ —surely Thorin would understand? After so long on the road, of course he’s going to have more diverse tastes. And of course the local hero, who slew a dragon and is practically a lord, is going to catch his attention, especially when that hero is one long line of thick muscle and coarse hair and dark, powerful features...

Bard steps out of his boots and pushes his trousers right down—Fíli’s eyes jump with the motion, but there’s no time to take anywhere near as much in as he wants, because Bard climbs right into the pool in one swift, fluid movement. He’s swallowed right up in the water, halfway up his chest rather than the shoulder line like Fíli, but then he slumps back against the rim to make them level, omitting a languid sigh. If possible, he looks even better wet—the entry splashed a few droplets all the way up to his neck, and his face is already glistening with a thin sheen of sweat from the stifling heat of the room. His hair is pulled messily back into a bun, not that different than Fíli’s, though Fíli’s got a lot more to gather. Bard probably still has enough to braid. Maybe, if Fíli phrased the offer right, he might like to indulge some Dwarven culture. Under the right circumstances, braiding another warrior’s hair can be quite an intimate experience...

“This is a good place to have on days like this,” Bard notes, his voice as deep and sensual as Fíli remembers. He was cute then, but he’s cuter now. Glancing sideways to catch Fíli’s eye, Bard adds, “No offense, but that uncle of yours can be quite a handful.”

Fíli snorts. “I’m sure he’d say the same about me, and probably you, too.”

“Fair,” Bard chuckles. Even with all he’s been through, he still finds a way to seem good-natured. It’s particularly attractive, laced in with all his strength. He stretches his long arms around the rim of the pool, one hand stopping just short of brushing Fíli’s shoulder. Then he continues smoothly, “But I’m pleased not all the dwarves here have proven so. Some have been very accommodating.”

Fíli clearly remembers Bard accommodating him, all of them, even when he had so little to give and so much to lose. At another time, Fíli might mention that.

At the current moment, where they’re both naked and wet and Bard has a particular gleam in his eyes, Fíli purrs, “I’m glad to hear it. Are all your... ‘needs’... being met? Because if there’s anything I can do for you...”

“Actually...” Bard grins, then shifts along the edge, shuffling closer, and Fíli sits right where he is, smiling encouragingly, until Bard’s sidled right up next to him, arm draping around the rim again and effectively along his shoulders. He stops there but admits, “You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten a break like this, with someone else looking after the kids, and me off around admirable people...”

The way he says ‘admirable’ makes it sound like he wanted to say ‘attractive,’ but Fíli knows that Bard’s the noble sort, maybe too much so to just come out and blatantly flirt. Fíli’s never had such troubles, and he conspicuously moves his hand to Bard’s thigh. He gives a light squeeze to the soft flesh he finds, earning a sharp intake of breath out of Bard. He can’t see or tell how high he is up Bard’s leg, but he means to slide higher and find out. In the meantime, he tilts his head up, lips parting slightly, lashes lowering, bidding Bard to finish and close the distance. Bard looks very much like he’s going to.

But then the water ripples against Fíli’s chest, and he glances across the pool in surprise. King Thranduil, somehow, has managed to slip into the water without either hearing his approach or entrance. Fíli blinks in surprise, Bard turning to stare just as much, and Thranduil gives them both a sultry grin. 

Thorin would kill him for it, for this, but Fíli does understand Kíli’s interest in elves. Fíli usually prefers more rugged soldiers, with a bit of stock and some facial hair, but Thranduil, at least, has plenty of muscle. Most of his chest is completely exposed, his skin glistening pale in the firelight, not quite with sweat, but the subtle shine of mist. His long, silken blond-white hair falls trimly down his back, not restrained like his company, his crown and other clothes retired, though Fíli can’t see where to. He’s suddenly furious with himself for not paying more attention—now _that’s_ a body he’d like to see in its entirety. 

Thranduil purrs through perfect bow lips, “I had wondered where Erebor’s princes had gotten to; I had hoped you might prove more reasonable than your king.” Even his thinly veiled insult comes out seductive, and Fíli finds his posture straightening. 

Hand still on Bard’s thigh but eyes fixed on Thranduil, Fíli grunts a simple, “Sorry?”

Thranduil waves a graceful hand. “It is of no matter now; I have lost the wish to speak of political matters.” He glances at Bard once while he says this, but, despite having leaders among all three races present, doesn’t correct himself. Instead, he coos, “Rather, I am in a mood for more... pleasurable... things.”

Fíli glances at Bard. He can see the hunger mirrored in Bard’s eyes but finds it hard to choose between the two—both have such different things to offer. And both are at their barest—their best—for him. Then he feels something nudge at his foot and realizes that Thranduil’s has crept towards him beneath the water. Thranduil lifts an elegant brow. 

Fíli asks, “Would you care to join us?”

Thranduil drifts forward to Fíli’s other side and sighs, “I thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
